


The Real Hawkeye

by reeby10



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Conventions, Ensemble Cast, Fanboy Phil Coulson, First Meetings, Friendship, Insecure Clint, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/pseuds/reeby10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The guy who outed me at the convention,” he explained. “That was him. Only he was wearing a vintage Cap costume then.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Hawkeye

**Author's Note:**

> This was written last June and basically just sat around in my files until I got off my but and edited it. But here it is, chock full of my love for conventions since I won't be at another one for months!
> 
> Thanks to Yaoisakka because she plotted pretty much this whole thing in chat and I stole it and wrote it :)

“Tasha,” Clint whined for the fifth time in as many minutes, “are you done yet so we can leave?”

Natasha didn’t even bother to look at him, still enthralled with the jewelry at the table they were standing at. As soon as they’d entered the convention, she’d insisted they go visit the Artist Alley. Clint wasn’t really sure why or what it was, but there were a lot of jewelry and buttons and pictures of him in compromising positions with his teammates. She seemed to love it.

Clint hadn’t wanted to come to the convention in the first place. It was weird to be surrounded by people who dressed like his friends but weren’t. Or were dressed like him. It was a little flattering, too, but to be honest he really didn’t understand why anyone would want to spend a bunch of money to fight their way through crowds while wearing costumes in the middle of the summer.

He was overwhelmed by it all, and _he_ was a superhero.

Everyone else seemed to be having a blast, though, even Natasha, so he tried to not be an ass about it. Or at least not too much of one. Natasha needed a fun day, even if she’d chosen a strange place to have it. Maybe he’d see some cool stuff that would make it worth it.

“Alright, we can walk around the main floor now,” Natasha said, startling Clint from his consideration of the crowds. He turned to see her clipping a dangly silver and red bracelet to her wrist. It was rather pretty, and exactly the kind of thing Natasha liked to wear in her off time.

“Finally!”

Natasha raised a single eyebrow. “Don’t get too excited,” she said dryly. “There’s still the main floor and the Dealer’s Room at least.”

Clint groaned but followed obediently behind.

They wound their way through the crowds for several minutes, caught in the crush of humanity. It was kind of nice that there were so many people that no one was really looking at them, especially with their hoodies and sunglasses. Clint had himself almost believing that their outing would be alright when he bumped straight into someone coming around a corner.

Somehow, neither of them fell, just stumbled back a step or two. Clint was a little impressed; not many people could stay standing after running into him full force. He smiled, looking up to apologize, but froze.

The guy, kind of cute in an accountant-ish way and probably a few years older than him, was dressed in an almost perfect replica of the uniform Cap had worn in World War II. Clint would know, he’d seen it up close and personal a few times along the way. But that wasn’t what made him stop. The guy was looking at him with open amazement, and Clint knew in an instant that he’d been recognized as Hawkeye, the real one at least.

Clint opened his mouth to apologize and ask the guy to keep quiet, but the guy was quicker and in just a moment the damage was done.

“The real Hawkeye!” the guy said, voice loud in a sudden lull in the crowd.

For a moment, no one reacted, and Clint almost let himself hope that everyone would just laugh it off. Luck wasn’t on his side though, because in just moments people were peering at him and whispering and calling out for pictures and autographs.

Clint looked back at the guy, sure his dismay was clear on his face, and the guy was already looking repentant.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” the guy said, looking absolutely mortified. “I should know better.” He glanced over at Natasha, who had been swept up in the crowd that had now realized that they had two real Avengers in their midst. He nodded decisively. “You two make a break for it and I’ll run crowd control.”

That had to be the strangest reaction Clint had ever gotten from someone who recognized him when he didn’t want them to. He opened his mouth again to say something, but Natasha was already grabbing his arm to drag him toward the nearest exit.

“Really, Clint?” she hissed as the slipped through a side door. “You just had to get noticed.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Clint complained.

She just looked at him, daring him to prove it, but for some reason he didn’t say anything about the cute guy in the Cap costume. Despite the guy being the reason they’d had to run for it, he’d kind of been Clint’s bright spot of the day, strange as it was. He shrugged and Natasha snorted, just as he’d known she would.

“Come on then, it’s still my day,” she said, leading the way down the street. “I’m thinking mani-pedis.”

***

Clint didn’t think about the guy much in the next week, really he didn’t. Just once or twice or a few times a day. It wasn’t _weird_ , though Natasha kept looking at him strangely and she didn’t even know why unless she’d somehow guessed. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He just thought about the guy sometimes when he saw Cap was all. Or when they passed a crowd of fans. Or whenever he saw a guy in a suit because he was convinced that’s what the guy wears on a day to day basis in his life as an accountant or whatever.

But it’s not like he was obsessed.

A week later he’d managed to tone down his not-obsession, almost convincing himself that he was never gonna see the guy again so he should just forget it. If he was still scanning every crowd just a little more than usual, well that was his business.

Natasha collected him as he was leaving the mess hall, knocking him out of his reverie with an elbow to the gut as she slipped out of the shadows by the door. “Time for a mission,” she said, far too cheerful as he doubled over and gasped for breath.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how they asked you to get me, Nat,” he grumbled, rubbing his stomach as he straightened up.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Natasha answered, grinning and heading down the corridor. “Now hurry up. We’ve got a new handler.”

“What do you mean, new handler?” Clint asked, trying to catch up.

They’d had the same handler for almost a year, the longest either of them had ever managed to hold on to a handler, and he thought they’d been doing pretty good. Hand didn’t really seem to like them, but she put up with them and let them make their own calls when they needed to. Clint appreciated that much more than being liked.

Natasha shrugged, but didn’t stop walking. “I think she’s being transferred to the Hub,” she said. “Nothing to do with us this time.”

“First time for everything, right?” Clint said, faux cheerful as he finally caught up. It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to Hand as their handler, he just didn’t want to break a new one in because that often involved far more actual breaking than the handler liked or was used to.

“Just try not to shoot the new one this time.”

Clint turned to frown at Natasha. “I told you that-” he started to complain, and ran smack into someone as he turned a corner. _Not again_ , he thought before looking over at who he’d run into and nearly freezing in surprise.

“You!” he gasped out. “How are you-? What are you-?”

The guy- because of course it was _the guy_ \- raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He was wearing the suit Clint had been imagining him in for a week and didn’t look anywhere as surprised as Clint felt. Or out of place, either, which was how Clint was pretty sure a guy he’d met at some convention should look in the middle of SHIELD HQ.

“Agent Barton,” the guy said, nodding at him. He glanced over at Natasha. “And Agent Romanoff. Good to see you both. I’m Agent Coulson, the Avengers’ new liaison and the new handler for Strike Team Delta. If you’ll follow me?”

Clint stared after him, mouth agape, barely noticing the way Natasha was laughing at him. “That was… that was the guy!” he managed to get out, turning to Natasha with pleading eyes. “Please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Natasha frowned at him, gesturing the way the guy- Agent Coulson- had gone. They started walking, albeit much more slowly than before. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“That Agent Coulson is the guy from the convention!” Clint said, trying to keep his voice down. Half of the other agents already thought he was crazy after all, no need to fuel the fires even if he did feel a little unhinged at the moment.

“The guy from the convention.”

Clint sighed, trying not to roll his eyes in frustration. It wasn’t like he’d told her what happened, so he couldn’t expect her to know even if she usually knew everything. Or at least acted like she did. “The guy who outed me at the convention,” he explained. “That was him. Only he was wearing a vintage Cap costume then.”

They were outside the door to the briefing room by then, where the other Avengers and Agent Coulson were waiting for them. Natasha stopped with her hand on the door handle, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been thinking about him a lot, haven’t you?” she asked, sounding far more amused than the situation warranted.

“How do you… I mean I…” he sputtered, then stopped, rubbing a hand wearily over the back of his neck. “A lot, Nat. _A lot_ , a lot,” he admitted.

Surprisingly, Natasha smiled at him instead of teasing some more. “He seems nice,” she said, and opened the door, preventing him from answering.

The meeting was awkward, though Clint seemed to be the only one who really noticed how awkward it was. Everyone seemed to like their new handler, especially when Coulson threatened to taze him if he didn’t behave. That was an idea everyone could get behind.

Somehow, though, Clint found himself liking Coulson as well. Besides being cute and looking frankly delectable in a suit, he was obviously very competent, and funny in a dry sort of way. He wondered for a moment if that made his obsession after the convention more or less weird, but finally decided on more if only because now he’d have way more to obsess over and he’d be in close proximity to Coulson on a regular basis.

It was probably going to suck, but most things in Clint’s life did so it was par for the course.

Clint started to get a little antsy as the meeting wound down, hoping he’d be able to leave quickly without any awkward confrontation. As soon as the meeting was called, he hopped out of his seat and headed for the door.

“Barton,” Coulson called, just as made to open the door, “could I have a word?”

Natasha pushed past Clint, patting him on the shoulder. “Here’s your chance,” she said with a smile, and was gone.

The other Avengers followed behind, discussing the upcoming mission or their new handler. Tony gave a conciliatory grimace as he passed, probably figuring Clint had already done something to require reprimand. Clint carefully waited until they were all gone before turning back, tension in every line of his body.

“You wanted to talk to me, sir?” he asked.

Coulson, strangely, was looking far less confident than he had during or before the meeting. If Clint was pressed, he’d even say he was looking sheepish. It was rather adorable, if also rather confusing.

“Yes,” Coulson said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. “I wanted to apologize. For at the convention. That was, uh, very unprofessional of me and I apologize for any… inconvenience it caused.”

Clint gaped at him for a moment, honestly unsure of how to respond. He’d figured on Coulson ignoring the fact that they’d met or asking him to not mention it to anyone. Not this. “It’s fine, sir,” he finally replied, shrugging a little. “No harm, no foul.”

“Good.” Coulson smiled a little, though he still looked uncomfortable. “I’d also like to apologize for running into you in my… costume,” he said. “Not exactly the first impression I’d wanted to make on an Avenger.”

“Oh, you mean the Cap outfit,” Clint asked, chuckling. He had to admit he’d been wondering about that a lot since the meeting started. “It was a little strange. But he’s your favorite, I guess?”

“You’re, uh, you’re my favorite, actually,” Coulson said, blushing and running a hand through his hair in obvious embarrassment.

Clint stared, eyes wide. “Really?” he asked, dumbfounded. “ _I’m_ your favorite? I didn’t think I was anybody’s favorite.”

Coulson scoffed, looking marginally less embarrassed. “You’re amazing,” he said, not a trace of irony in his voice. “I’m sure you’ve got hordes of fans that think the same.”

“I mean, I know some people like me alright,” Clint said slowly, “but favorite? I don’t think so. Not when there’s Iron Man and Captain America and Thor to look at. The rest of us?” He gave a wry smile. “Sometimes I think we’re just window dressings.”

“No!” Coulson exclaimed, flushing again at his outburst. If the discussion wasn’t so personal and uncomfortable, Clint would have found the expression even more adorable. “I mean, that’s not true,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’re important. The other Avengers know it, SHIELD knows it, I know it, your fans know it. You’re important.”

Clint looked down at the ground, willing away the tears that had suddenly sprung unbidden into his eyes. He shouldn’t be getting so worked up about this, dammit, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Except for how it was.

No one had said anything like that to him before and it was… nice. Sure, he knew his teammates liked him and appreciated him and he knew SHIELD thought he was useful and he knew he had a few fans out there. But this, this was something else. No one had made him feel like he was appreciated for _himself_ before, not like this.

It was really nice.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, wincing at himself for sounding so lame. Just his luck, a cute guy thinks he’s great and Clint can’t even manage a proper conversation. He took a deep breath, willing himself to be less the awkward doofus he really was. “What I mean is thank you. That… really means a lot to me.”

Coulson gave him a small smile, finally looking a little more at ease. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry no one’s said that to you before. You deserve to hear it.”

“Thanks,” Clint said again, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. This constant praise, while nice, left him really not knowing what to do.

They both stood there awkwardly for several moments, apparently lost on what to do with the conversation, whether to continue it or just leave it. Clint wouldn’t mind continuing talking to Coulson, though he’d rather they steered the conversation away from him and his self-worth issues. That wasn’t really the best topic to deal with.

Finally, Clint decided to just go with the topic he’d had on his mind since they’d first “met” at the convention. There wasn’t really much worse that could happen. “Do you wanna go get some coffee?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray how anxious he was. “There’s a good place just a few blocks down the street.”

Coulson, who had been busy twiddling with his cufflinks, looked up, blinking owlishly. “As… colleagues?” he asked.

Clint shook his head, hoping he wasn’t the one who was about to start blushing. “No. I was thinking more along the lines of a date.”

“In that case,” Coulson replied, a slow smile spreading over his face, “I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcome. If you like my fic, come chat with me [on tumblr](http://voldiebuns.tumblr.com/) or maybe [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/A7274PC).


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